


Disobedience

by renegadejaybird (vitious)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Very slight Dom/Sub undertones, mild bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-04
Updated: 2012-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitious/pseuds/renegadejaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barton has a terrible habit of disobeying direct orders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disobedience

If there was one thing that Clint was not known for, it was his obedience.  Even though he followed orders fairly well, his mouth was infamous amongst the agents at S.H.I.E.L.D. and Phil wasn't an exception to that.  Well, not entirely.  His handling of it, however, was far from tradtional or professional, but Clint couldn't find it in himself to object this time.  
  
"On your knees." Agent Coulson murmured, gripping the other man's shoulder and applying downward pressure until Clint finally caved, sinking to his knees before him.  "Good."  
  
Agent Barton's lips parted to allow his accelerated breathing, his hands twisting a little in the zipties that all the agents used these days for aprehending normal humans, testing to make sure he couldn't wiggle free.  Leave it to Coulson to never disappoint when it came to restraining someone, something which caused arousal to roll down his spine and pool in his groin.  Another wave of pleasure rolled through him as Phil's hand slid over his shoulder, up and around the back of his neck and into the hair covering the back of his head.  He had just enough for Coulson to hold on to, enough for him to use to yank his head backwards, causing a surprised, shuddering gasp to pass his lips; oh, he was screwed.  
  
"Your disregard for authority is getting old, Barton." Coulson breathed, his free hand moving to hook its thumb behind his belt, fingers directing Clint's gaze to the very obvious bulge in his neatly pressed slacks.    
  
All Clint could do was force his eyes to slide up his lover's body to lock gazes with the other man, remaining silent and swallowing thickly.  Phil's eyes hooded slightly, something that the archer had only started to be able to notice recently.  It was a subtle tell, one that showed that Phil cared, that he was having difficulty remaining stern during these little encounters, but it only lasted a moment before his eyes narrowed again.  His hand began to unfasten his belt, something that sent a bolt of arousal through him, the intensity of it causing him to let out a tumultuous breath and swallow; the buildup was going to kill him he was sure.  
  
Leather is pulled free of beltloops with a whisper of a sound and the jangle of a buckle before the belt is uncermoniously dropped to the floor in a clatter.  Clint's mouth begins to water a little when Phil's hands begin to undo his slacks, his fingers slowly drawing down the zipper, leaving the younger man's arms twisting and his back arching a little; he just wanted to reach forward and finish the job himself.  Coulson simply looks amused by this, seeming content to take his time, neatly folding the cloth out of the way and drawing down his pants and briefs slowly.  When his length was finally revealed, Clint let out a soft gasp and leaned forward a little, even as he rolled his eyes up to look at his lover, eager and turned on by the power play; it wasn't that he technically could get loose, it was that Phil made it so he had no urge to.  
  
"Agent Coulson, Sir..." he breathed, swallowing thickly as he stared up at him, slowly licking his lips in anticipation. "Sir, please..."  
  
"Shh, Barton." Phil interjected before the archer could say more, reaching out to slide his fingers into Clint's short hair. "You'll get what you deserve."  
  
Clint had to bite back a moan at those words, but didn't bother to restrain the one that passed his lips when Coulson pulled him forward by his hair, gripping the base of his cock, holding it steady as he moved his lover's head so his lips pressed against the tip.  Without hesitation Barton's lips parted and his eyes hooded, lashes fluttering a little  as he was slowly drawn forward, taking the entirety of Phil's length into his mouth without resitance.  Finally the older man's hands stopped pulling, shifting to gently card through the archer's hair instead, staring down at him expectantly even as he leaned back against the wall of his living room, bracing himself for what was to come even as he feigned composure that bordered on boredom.  
  
With a full body shudder Clint began to move, eyes clenching shut as his tongue pressed against the underside of the shaft that filled his mouth and began to suck.  He bobbed his head slowly, swirling his tongue around and sucking on the crown as he pulled back, grazing the entire length gently with his teeth as he slid his mouth forward.  As he worked, he listened to the gentle thump of Coulson's head falling back against the wall, the hitched gasps and, after a particularly devious swipe of his tongue, soft moans.  It was intoxicating, listening to Phil slowly come undone because of him, especially since the other man was always so in control, always so professional.  Kneeling before and servicing this supposedly unruffleable man made him feel powerful.  
  
With a low moan, be began to move his head faster, ignoring the protests of the muscles in his neck and relishing in the feel of Phil's hand spasming in his hair.  He could tell that the other agent was getting close, his moans growing more frequent, though still soft and controlled, his breathing labored and his hips unconsciously jerking with every sudden jolt of pleasure.  Clint hummed softly in pleasure which caused a rather filthy sound to pass Phil's lips and which just made lust pool in the Archer's groin, drawing attention to his own aching arousal.  He let out another moan, brows knitting together as he moved even faster, eager to bring his lover to orgasm, spurred on by the borderline uncomfortable pressure in his pants; after all he hadn't changed out of his uniform and his cup was killing him.  
  
Finally Phil's hand fisted in his hair, causing him to wince even as he moaned, shuddering as heat spilled across his tongue.  Clint slowly drew his head back, letting the bitter fluid coat his tongue, spilling over his lips and down his chin.  Barton slowly rolled his eyes up to look at his lover, tipping his head back, lips parted, before he made a show of slowly licking his lips and swallowing, loving the way that Coulson's eyes fluttered, the way his lips parted.  With a sound that bordered on a growl, Phil reached down and pulled him to his feet by his upper arms before crushing their mouths together, come smearing across both their chins.  When the bruising liplock ended, Clint was left dazed, eyes fluttering open, before he leaned in, licking the smear of white off his lover's face without a second thought.  
  
"Barton." There was a warning in there somewhere amidst the desire.  
  
"Mmm...  Yes, Sir?" Barton murmured, licking his lips.  
   
Coulson simply snorted, his hands moving to undo the bottom of Clint's Hawkeye uniform, something that made Barton lick his lips in anticipation, eyes clenching shut as the other agent's hand slipped inside and undid his cup.  When that constriction was finally gone Clint moaned, shoulders sagging a little in relief before he gave a short, choked off cry of pleasure when Phil's hand curled around his length and began to stroke quickly.  One of the older man's hands curled around the back of Clint's neck, drawing him forward, pulling his head to rest against Coulson's shoulder, holding him as he brought him closer and closer to orgasm.    
  
Unlike Phil, Clint didn't restrain his moans and gasps, shamelessly thrusting forward into his lover's hand; he was close already and wouldn't last long at the rate that the other man's hand was going.  Finally he cried out against the other man's shoulder, hips jerking as he came, coating Coulson's hand in his release.  He panted for a few long moments, dazed from the force of his orgasm, not noticing when Phil cleaned off his hand with a handkerchief he'd had conveniently tucked inside his suit coat; the other man did have a tendency for being prepared for everything.    
  
"Barton, I assume that my point has been made?" Coulson finally asked after a few moments of silence, his tone bland.    
  
"Oh, I dunno." Smirking, Clint lifted his head, looking smug, practically leering at the other man.  "You might have to run it by me again. "


End file.
